There's screaming in my head.

 Fuck all, I've gone and talked about this on FB of all places. This blog gets barely any pings, it's a theoretically safe place to talk about it.

Today, there's someone in my head screaming. It's not the introject of my mother. That particular someone is locked up and gagged as sufficiently as I can manage by force of will and magic. But there's a part of me wailing in terror and cowering. I can't make sense of it. I just take the magic pill and the wall between them and I gets a little thicker. 

I've had almost as many panic attacks this week as there've been days. I've dissociated a lot when I wasn't panicked and just sat staring at things not really connecting with reality. This concept of being 'plural' or whatever it's called terrifies me. That might be why one of the people in my head is screaming right now. I've been stuck on trying to write all morning.

All I know is that there's a part of myself in deep distress and I can't do anything about it. I don't know why there is this distress. When the panic attacks hit, I feel like I need to run and hide. Not take my children and hide. Not prepare for a fight. But flee for my life and hide in or under something where I can't be seen. It makes being on the computer hard because my living room is not a secure location with it's three big windows. Yeah, it's a laptop and I could theoretically carry it off into another room to write. But that's not going to resolve whatever the fuck is going on in my head.

All of this started months ago when I couldn't sleep. I thought we had the sleep problem resolved. I'm starting to wake up stupid early again. (Last night was because I was coming down from a panic attack and forgot all my evening meds because I couldn't grock what time it was on some level. That doesn't exactly count like most of last week where I did take 'em and I kept popping awake at 0400.) My head feels even more fucked up than it did when this shit began.

I'm not having flashbacks, most of the time. But that's because of the magic pill that quells the panic response and short circuits the flashback. I keep dissociating in a fashion where I just sit and stare not really connecting with reality, just in a fog. I know there's a lot of trauma anniversaries through this time of year. I'm not too surprised by the dissociation, but this rising, repetitive sense of panic and feeling like my brain/personality/self is fractured and held together with spit and bailing wire has been growing stronger over the months.

I'll be talking to my psy doc about this soon. I know that he'll say that I really need a therapist. The problem is none of the therapists in my area will take my damn insurance. And I'll just suffer with this shit if my choice is going back to the county clinic. Those people damn near destroyed my life with their bungling of my case. No fucking way am I going to darken their doorstep, be it literally or figuratively.